


Misgivings

by LibertinePast



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fire, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Thanksgiving, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21695434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibertinePast/pseuds/LibertinePast
Summary: Anoush’s lackluster life at Cole’s on Van Nuys goes up in flames. His eleventh hour confession to Amanda forces them to confront the leftovers of their tension-filled summer.  At the LaRusso's Thanksgiving, the torches carried are about to light another blaze.Angst, devotion, survival, and other things the Turkey Hotline can't help with.
Relationships: Amanda LaRusso/Anoush Norouzi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	Misgivings

**Author's Note:**

> This is a super late contribution to the Burn It Down challenge, and totally unrelated to Little Earthquakes. I just love Thanksgiving, fire whump and Amoush, so why not combine 'em all? ♥♥♥ (Also: Waistcoat origin story!) 
> 
> Big thanks to storyshark2005 for spitballing ideas with me for the summary!

_November 21, 2018_

_To our chosen family,_ Anoush toasted in his head.

Tom Cole was blustering at the team in the spirit of the Swanksgiving pre-sales event. “...And we’ve retired the word ‘boba’ for ‘pearl milk tea.’ It sounds more luxe and the focus group thought ‘boba’ sounds ‘too Mexicany.’ Is that clear?” 

Anoush was barely listening. The day before Thanksgiving at LaRusso Auto was never a pre-sale; it was an easy-going day with a spread in the conference room, and even Karen in a good mood. Last year, Anoush’s promotion had been announced over spiked cider, as Louie slumped in his seat at the conference table. It was a glorious moment. 

“ _To our chosen family,_ ” Amanda would toast this afternoon, in a burgundy dress. Or plum.

He was still adjusting the color of the dress in his memory, like an old TV, as Cole blathered on. “....so anyone who wants to donate to my daughter’s mission trip to Cabo can talk to Amoud.” 

Cole called him that so much, he’d started answering to it. Amoud was the slimy sellout looking back at him in the rearview now.

He deserved it, at least in the showroom circus of his imagination. 

When the snippy pep talk was over, he went into his small office. The potted prickly pear on his desk looked terrible, and he wondered how he’d managed to kill a fucking cactus. His phone rang and illuminated like stained glass with a picture of Amanda. He missed his chair as he sat down, shooting back up as he answered. “Hi. Helloo.” He crossed his legs and whacked his knee under the desk. “ _...jesussfuck_ ,” he hissed under his breath.

_“Hey. Is this a bad time?”_

“Never. Is one. For you.” Facepalm. “I’m just...struck. It’s been a few months. Your voice is surreal.” A harder facepalm.

_“It’s been too long. I just wanted you to know that you’re welcome to stop by for the pre-Thanksgiving party. It’s not the same without you. Even Karen said so.”_

That was saying something. “I appreciate that...and I would be there, full throttle, bells on, but I...I just don’t know if…”

_"Tom would get pissed?”_

“No, it’s not that at all. I just think it would be...painful, awkward, weird--”

_"Anoush, why are you doing this to yourself? If you don’t want to be over there stewing in tapioca because you’re mad at Daniel, then don’t. You know I’d take you back with open arms.”_

He sighed, letting that sentence linger out of context. “Me being here is better for all of us.”

 _“Why?”_

The fire broke out before he could answer, although he did eventually answer.

Rookie mechanic, faulty blowtorch, a gas drip under the chassis. 

Anoush’s office bordered the service bay, and he saw the flash of flames from the overlooking window. He managed to mouth the word “shit,” the sound turning to dust in his throat.

The fire alarm went off, screeching and crackling in Amanda’s ear. “Anoush? Is that just a drill?” 

Wasn’t adrenaline supposed to make you do...something? He was paralyzed, feeling like he was watching the whole thing on Chicago Fire, outside himself. “….no, there’s just….an actual fire in the service bay right next to my office. Big. Bigly. Whoever was doing that weld is fucked….”

Amanda shot up from her desk. Anoush had a reputation for being somewhat overdramatic, and the detached nature of his voice wasn’t like him at all. “ _Anoush, don’t hang up, get out of there right now, but you stay on the line with me, okay? And watch out for Tom, he’ll be pushing everyone out of his way, trust me.”_

Phone still glued to his ear, he ran for his door and it wouldn’t open. “Ooookay, what the hell is this??? Something must’ve— shorted out, some kind of auto-deadbolt was triggered in my office--?”

_“What?? Who had that office before you, Matt Lauer??!”_

Smoke began to pour into the little office. “Fuuck?! It’s starting to look like you’ve been cooking in here, Amanda!”

That painted a familiar picture alright. _“Jesus, break something!! Break a window!!”_

“The only window is the one overlooking the service bay!” He could feel the heat intensifying in the room and he threw off his suit jacket. He vised his phone from ear to shoulder--not daring to put it down--went full Cobra Kai on the handle, and pounded on the door. “HEY??!! Sales Manager’s stuck??? A little help???!.....” He sucked in ash and the plea shuddered into a cough.

He sank down, his back to the door. “Amanda...it’s hopeless. They’re all at the far end of the lot by now…..”

Amanda balled her free hand into a fist, swallowing hard. _“You don’t know that. Don’t you dare give up. You’re gonna be okay. Basic of life, remember?”_

“..... the smoke is crazy....I don’t think I can Miyagi my way out of this one….” he coughed hard. He put his suit jacket over his mouth and puffed into the Armani, but it was like an ashtray.

“ _Hey, you’re doing fine. You’re doing great_ ,” she said, trying to control the shiver in her voice. 

“...you don’t have to lie. If I...don’t make it out of here, there are some things you should--”

“ _No no no, stop with that right now, all you have to do is hang tight until the fire department breaks the lock. Stay low, no confessional, you’ve got this, okay?”_

He was panting and hoarse. “...Louie kissed me on the lips when he was drunk-- I still have nightmares about it, and--and you’re right, I-I hate it here with a passion but I can’t come back because Daniel will find out everything!--”

_“Anoush, you’re not gonna die, will you cut it out??”_

His eyes were red-rimmed and watering, his chest tightening. “I wear vests everyday because you told me it looked dapper. I never forgot that.” Every breath was more knifelike.

Amanda was running out of Sherman Oaks to her Q7, intent on flooring it to Van Nuys. _“Will you stop blurting out things and—“_

“I’ve never made love before!”

 _“An_ ** _oush?!_ ** _”_

“ --That came out wrong,” he sputtered. “I-I’m not a virgin, I--just never had _that_ moment with the violins and holding someone’s face and the only person I’d ever have that with is you—” He couldn’t get any lower to the floor and fought to fill his lungs again, piece by piece. “It was always you....” White noise.

“...... _Anoush?!_ ” He didn’t answer. Fifteen seconds, thirty. Amanda’s heart was slamming out of her chest. _“ANOUSH?!”_

Feeling like there just traces of ‘basic’ left, one hazy thought was worth a shot. (Besides, who would go to a funeral on Thanksgiving weekend?) He army crawled under his desk and weakly pawed around, and wouldn’t you know. There was a goddamn button-- he must’ve hit it with his knee before the fire even started. He could hear the Lauer lock release even under the blaring alarm and his own crushing gasps.

The firefighters found him collapsed half in and out of his office.

* * *

* * *

  
  
  


The pre-Thanksgiving travel traffic had Amanda slamming on the horn. She could hear the sirens a mile away from Cole’s dealership. The red flashes were dissolving in the water pooling up in her eyes. There was a song on the radio but she couldn’t make it out. There was only a montage of Anoush’s laughter and expressions, sync cut to the music while she chanted “Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay.” 

She screeched into the far lot and ran in heels towards a gurney trundling down the curb. 

Anoush looked like a chimney sweep and if he were awake, he’d crack a joke about it with a cockney accent. It looked insanely wrong for him to be out cold, not trying to work the room with a Chesire grin. All that mattered was the fog filling the oxygen mask, even and mesmerizing. 

She reached for his hand and it curled around hers. 

Her heart jumped and her arm stretched to its limit to hold on when the gurney was folded into the ambulance.

As hot as it must have gotten in there, he’d never taken off the vest. She tasted ashes, whimpering a little into her hand.

She looked up and Cole was watching her with heavy lids, slurping a straw, as always. “Here to gloat, Mando? I’m sure my shit luck will be the talk of your crazy-ass table tomorrow. Casa LaRusso: Where gravy means spaghetti sauce!”

“Why don’t you take that damn sippy cup out of your mouth and be a fucking grown-up, Tom? _Your_ shit luck?? One your mechanics is probably dead, and my friend was suffocating in his little office, deadbolted inside! How the hell did that happen?”

“...Oof….” Cole winced, earnestly. “He must’ve tripped up my old SM’s little reason for resigning. Not at my urging, but the _hashtaggers_ , of course. I should’ve uninstalled it, but it seemed useful for a charmer like Amoud.” 

Amanda ground her heel into the pavement. “He’s not a predator, and his name is Anoush.”

“Gesundheit,” Cole smiled.

"He’s gonna sue that smirk off your face when he’s back with us, asshole. Mark my words.”

* * *

* * *

  
  
Anoush spent most of Wednesday in the hospital. Amanda spent the rest of the morning in a bedside vigil, waiting for him to wake up. “C’mon, jerk…” she whispered, fixing the crooked oxygen tube on his face and rubbing his bandaged hand. “It’s Thanksgiving. Only comas allowed are food comas.” Maybe he wouldn’t remember the things he said. That wouldn’t make it any easier, really…unless she could forget, which she wouldn’t. She waited for fluttering eyelids, remembering what she’d noticed during that fateful lunch at her desk--that Anoush’s eyes were actually the blackest shade of wine.

When he opened his eyes, they smiled before his mouth did, and she threw her arms around his neck. “Afternoon,” she sniffed, his trademark opener. His throat was raw and his adoring grumbles were met with “Sh-sh,” and a finger to his lips. “I’m gonna get the doctor.” 

Maybe he didn’t remember what he’d said. 

When she came back, his eyes on her had sunken from cloud nine to the ninth circle of cringe. 

Yeah. He remembered. 

To make a long story short, Daniel burst in with “This is all my fault!” and they abducted Anoush to Escalon Drive when he was discharged. They weren’t about to let him jet off to the Norouzi celebration on Long Island in this condition, as much as he insisted. 

  
  


Sitting up in bed in the guest room on Thanksgiving afternoon, he was FaceTiming on a laptop with his mother, Soraya and sister Bita. Bleary-eyed, he’d had nightmares all night and was too tired for this. Not that it wasn’t comforting to hear it was Allah’s will that he survived. Not that he necessarily agreed.

“Don’t let them waste the bones,” his mother said in despair, most of her face cut off the screen. “Hide them if you have to.”

Bita rolled her eyes. “Mamma, really?”

“And drink all the broth so you don’t get pneumonia.”

Matching sibling eye-rolls. “Don’t worry, I have a nebulizer, I’m on steroids--”

“The kind that shrink your _khayeh?_ ? The odds are already against me being a grandmother! _”_

“No, not that kind. I’ll be fine.”

“Right. The LaRussos will take ‘good’ care of you, just like they did before? Watch out for those people, especially... _her,”_ she cringed. “That woman should be home with her children!” 

“They’re eleven and sixteen, Mamma, but I’ll pass that along. And don’t talk like that about her--if she hadn’t mentioned the Matt Lauer thing, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.”

Soraya sighed. “Fair enough. To make a joke in the darkest hour-- I suppose she’s just like you, Anoushirivan.”

Anoush paused on that, smiling weakly, as Bita grumbled something at Soraya in Farsi and grabbed the phone. “Ani, we love you and we’ll be home soon.” 

“You two doing okay without the mediator?” Anoush gestured casually at himself.

"Oh, you have no idea.” 

Anoush contemplated going downstairs when he closed the laptop. He and Amanda had managed to avoid each other for most of the day, just like he’d steered clear of the blast of heat whenever Daniel opened the oven. He thought about her and reached for the nebulizer, puffing hungrily and undoing his henley buttons before he made his descent.

Lucille had forbidden catering that Thanksgiving, and she and Daniel had spent the morning whisking, mashing, and arguing. “There’s my Nousharino,” Lucille grinned. “You look refreshed.”

“Really? Talking to my mother doesn’t usually have that effect.” 

Sam was spending the holiday with friends at the rehab center where Miguel was making a slow, but steady recovery. Anthony had been hanging around, bugging Anoush periodically. “Hey Mr. Norouzi, you want to play some Smash Bros Ultimate?” he called from the couch. “Or pretend you’re beating up Tom Cole in Smash Bros Ultimate?”

“Uh….” he began, but when Amanda entered the room, he decided the tuned-out world of an eleven year old was the perfect hiding place. “Helllll yeah,” he managed, jumping the arm of the couch and grabbing the controller.

Okay, so he got his ass handed to him, even when Anthony played as tiny Pichu. “You okay, Mr. Norouzi? I do lines of butter and I don’t even get out of breath in a video game fight.” 

“Nah—it’s nothing, I’m fine--” 

“Amanda,” Lucille barked. “Did you forget Anoush’s Prednisone? You run four dealerships, but you can’t make one cold dessert or remember you have a guest with a smoke injury?” 

"Sorry, sorry,” she stammered, shaking the tablets into her hand and hustling into the living room with a glass of water. Sunken into the couch, Anoush looked up at her in heavenly despair, and their hands met warmly on the glass of water. Her dress was aubergine, a few clicks past the color he’d settled on yesterday. “We can’t keep doing this,” Amanda hissed through her teeth.

He shook his head. “It’s fine, I forgot about the meds too—“

“We're _avoiding_ each other. Dojo, five minutes.”

She left him with his mouth a little gaped and she shuffled back to the kitchen, desperate for wine. 

“ _I_ know what’ll get you better, Nousharino!” Lucile sang as she held her hand under a gravy spoon all the way to the couch.

“I think someone has a little crush,” Daniel said.

Amanda managed not to choke on her Riesling.

"Lookit,” he snickered, gesturing in the living room. “She’s been spoon feedin’ him samples all afternoon, and she called hm ‘exotic’ earlier. I know it’s only been forty years, but I think Ma’s ready to hit the market again. Can you imagine if a little May-December thing started?”

“Okay, first of all, _no_ . Second of all, _God no!_ Instead of playing matchmaker, you should be working out a salary proposal for ‘Nousharino.’” 

“What, you really think he’s gonna go back to Cole’s after that?” 

“No, I’m worried he’ll up and leave town if I’m not careful--if, _we’re_ not careful.”

Lucille called out, “Alexa, play some Christmas music!” 

Daniel rolled his eyes. “Ma, can we get through Thanksgiving first?”

“I’m in the spirit! Scusa, we’ve witnessed a miracle here?” she hinted, thumbing at her exotic friend. 

* * *

* * *

  
  
Anoush moped around the home dojo, hands in jean pockets. He stepped up on the tatami with socked feet and looked up at a picture of Mr. Miyagi. 

“Sorry, Sensei...all that zen stuff totally didn’t work when I thought I was gonna die,” he sighed. 

If he hadn’t been on the phone with Amanda...well, he shuddered to think about that, but would the confession have just spilled out anyway, to no one, into the ashy carpet? Maybe if he’d focused on her in any way at all, even all alone...he still would’ve survived. 

“I wish you could’ve met him,” her voice met his back as she tread barefoot on the mat.

He looked at his socks. “I’m sure he would’ve had some pretty sharp observations about me. 'S _mile board up condemned heart,_ ’ or something like that.” 

“That sounds exactly like something he would say.”

It was silent for a beat as they both looked at the picture on the mantle, in the safety of each other’s periphery.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so sketchy today...you saved my life and I can’t even look you in the eye. It’s just…”

“Anoush...you don’t have to explain anything. I can’t even...think about what today would’ve been like under different circumstances, not for one second. The fact that you’re here is all that matters.”

“Thank you...but I wish it was that simple.”

“No. Don’t be embarrassed of what you said when you were completely vulnerable....I understand. I struggled with it--you and I, this... all summer. When we were scraping by on our own, we got so close. To hear it out loud, and to know it was real for you too...it was almost a...relief.”

Anoush wasn’t an idiot—it’s not like he was just figuring out that she felt the same, but like she said...there was something different about hearing it out loud. Irrevocable. He raked a hand down his face. Mr. Miyagi seemed to avert his eyes behind the glass. “Okay...that complicates things…”

She folded her arms. “Wait, what? How? Wouldn’t it be more complicated if I was like, ‘Oh, I’m flattered,’ and you were throwing your feelings at a fucking brick wall?”

“If I was alone in this, I could just drop it!” 

“Oh, like you dropped it for the last three months at Cole’s? I know you thought about me as much as I thought about you. I know you lit up when I called, Anoush. I could hear you smiling.” 

“You can’t _hear_ someone smiling, Amanda!”

“Yes I can. Your jaw clicks.” 

His eyes darkened in admission. "How do I know you’re not just saying you have feelings too because you feel sorry for me?” 

“What, do you want me to prove it to you?” 

“How are you gonna do tha--”

She grabbed him by the henley and dragged him to her mouth, reveling in him simply being, and Anoush’s toes were practically on point in helpless bliss. He couldn’t hold back a little moan, and from her lips, he took his longest breath since the fire. Her kiss was gentle and hard at the same time, telling him exactly what yesterday had done to her, that he was safe with her now. Somehow it painted all of that and a thousand times more. She felt his bandaged hand on her face, the one he’d singed on the door handle when it finally clicked. Her hands were on his chest, fingers curling at the rumbles and hitches of life.

When they drew back, he believed her...but was dying in a completely different way, in Daniel’s hallowed space. 

Impulsive Amanda, lips swollen and breathless, hadn’t opened her eyes yet. “OK, that didn’t help anything.” 

“Nope.” 

“And now we have to have dinner like this.” 

“Like I said. Complications,” he shivered, adjusting away the problem under his belt.

“We’ll just have to think of Tom Cole’s face,” she panted, her fingertips on her mouth. “Demetri talking about Dungeons and Dragons. You kissing Louie.” 

“That’ll do, thanks.” 

* * *

* * *

  
  
Around the table, everything was quiet for a bit, which was unusual. If a LaRusso had something to say, food in their mouths didn’t stop them. 

Sure enough. “Sho,” Daniel chewed. “Nodeven a joke ‘bout the lawshuit, Anouf.” He patted his mouth with his napkin. “I think you’ve got a solid case against Cole.”

“Oh, I know a lawyer,” Lucille added. “James Mulvaney, real nice guy, the best around.”

“Are you kiddin’ me? That’s Cobra Jimmy, Ma.”

“What? No, oh no. This guy gives people fruit baskets with little Pandora charms on ‘em, there’s no way he’s Cobra Jimmy.”

“He _is!_ He was the quiet one, but he was a fixture, lemme tell you.” 

Anoush and Amanda looked at each other across the table as the argument went on. They moved food around on their plates, eyes painfully ablaze, their breathing too audible for people who were sitting still. Anoush felt them transmitting the same thing in their glances: _dojo._ That was their place now. It was only fitting, since karate had technically started this.

“Hey Mr. Norousshi,” Anthony chewed. “Did you see bright lights and stuff when you almost died?”

Amanda winced, unable to take one more reminder of that. If she didn’t counteract it with as much life as she could squeeze into a messy five minute session, she was going to die.

She went to the “bathroom,” he went to “get my nebulizer” a few minutes apart as the battle of whether or not James Mulvaney and Cobra Jimmy were the same person raged on.

Anoush was flat on his back on the tatami, Amanda on top of him, pinning his wrists as she kissed him nearly past what his lungs could endure. This was insane, and it had been a long time Amanda felt on the verge of going over the falls from fully clothed friction. 

“The violins," she sighed into his lips, "are you getting the violins yet, ‘cause I am….”

“Amanda...wait. You’re uspet.”

“I’m fine,” she breathed into his stubbly neck. 

“You look like you’re gonna cry,” he said, moving her hair from her face. He cradled her cheek and his look of pure concern finally broke her.

She fell into his arms and full-on ugly cried. He stroked her hair and let her snort and shudder like she’d been holding all of this in since seventh grade.

“It’s okay,” he said as she went slack in his arms, finally spent. He held her as she dozed lightly on the waves of his breathing. “Let’s go back to dinner. There’s a ton of shit to be thankful for, right? I’m thankful for Matt Lauer.”

She snickered into his chest. “Shut up.”

They went back to the table, where Lucille and Daniel were hunched over the James Mulvaney, Esq. webpage on her phone. “For Christ’s sake. Ma, that’s him! The eyes, he’s got very distinctive eyes!” 

“So Mr. Norouzi, was there a light or nah?”

“Yeah, there was,” Anoush said with a click of the jaw, his eyes fixed on her.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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